Their Republic
by Callioope
Summary: What happens after The Amber Spyglass ends? Lyra grows up at the boarding school, and Will faces the consequences of his return. But will they ever get to see each other again?
1. The Boarding School

Author's Note/**Disclaimer**: I love _His Dark Materials_, and I couldn't stand Lyra and Will's separation. The first time I read it, I was reluctantly satisfied with the ending, but after the second time, I just needed a filler. So here's my "sequel" to _His Dark Materials_, although I profess to have **absolutely no **affiliation with the esteemed Philip Pullman, nor Ballantine Publishing Group, or any other official group related to the publication and creation of this magnificent trilogy.

Their Republic

Chapter One: The Boarding School

The clock could not possibly go any slower – that was Lyra's impatient observation of the day. She had been waiting for this day for months – ever since she'd left Jordan College to live at the boarding school. She'd had few trips back to her childhood home – and each had always brought a painful reminder of what she had sorely lost.

At least, at the boarding school, she'd had some distractions. Will was always on her mind and in her heart, but sometimes – an unfortunate few, but sometimes – she was able to put him in the corner. Oddly, she didn't realize it, but it was exactly how Will had used the subtle knife when he was distracted. Acknowledge that yes, the pain is there, and it hurts an awful lot, but what must get done must get done.

Which was often times the least thing she wanted to do. While mainly Lyra's studies focused on the alethiometer, she still needed a basic education to get by – and, footnoted, she must also take studies that would seem normal to the other girls and allow her to mingle with them.

Lyra had always been a social child, but she'd been social with wild, rambunctious, _young _boys, and she'd acted like them, too. Being with girls was completely different, and with some of them, there was a subtle animosity. It reminded her, sourly, of her mother, only in much smaller doses. Girls could be quite venomous when they needed to be.

Yet she needed to get along with these strange girls, because that was mainly half of her education at the school. It was necessary preparation for life. She had many chances to get to know them, and she had one or two nice acquaintances that she was getting to know better. But one or two was a very small fraction of the girls attending the boarding school. Sometimes she felt the Scholars judging her for not having friends, but mostly she saw pity in their gaze.

On Saturdays, Dame Hannah Relf would visit and teach her about the alethiometer, and give her an assignment due for the next Saturday. She looked forward to Saturdays most, because the alethiometer was truly what her heart was devoted to – other than Will, and building the Republic of Heaven, though in a way, the alethiometer was a tool in building that republic.

Tomorrow would be the best Saturday of all, though, Lyra felt, and that was why she was glaring impatiently at the clock.

It was Friday afternoon, and her last class of the semester was trudging by at an agonizingly slow rate. Most unfortunately, it was math, which Lyra didn't mind, except that the teacher talked slow and mumbled sometimes, and wasn't always clear on what the theories meant.

As soon as class was over, Lyra would go to meet Dame Hannah, who was arriving a day early for a special occasion. _I bet Dame Hannah's already here, and she's wondering, too, what's taking so long for me to meet her_, Lyra thought. Pan looked at her and nodded, then poked her ankle with his nose.

Pantalaimon was her dæmon, and last year he had fixed to his permanent form: the most beautiful pine marten there ever was, with red and gold markings. People with dæmons – mainly the people in Lyra's world – could not stand to be separated from them, because the dæmons represented a part of their conscious. Except for witches dæmons, that is – witches dæmons could go as far away as they wanted or needed without feeling the heartbreaking pull. Lyra's Pan was like a witches dæmon, because she had had to journey into the land of the dead: no dæmons were allowed to enter the land of the dead. This separation had strengthened their bond, though, and now Pan could go miles away and they would be fine.

But Lyra was not technically a witch, so Pan still had to stay close when other people were near by, otherwise they would become suspicious, and Lyra would have a lot of explaining to do – most of which they wouldn't believe anyway.

Pan nudged Lyra's ankle again and Lyra shook back to reality. The Scholar was staring at her expectantly, so Lyra looked down at her notes, mumbled something, and fortunately the teacher nodded – slightly put off – and continued on with the lesson.

Lyra glanced again at the clock. One minute to go! Her heart fluttered wildly in her chest, and her stomach flipped. Yet she knew that minute would seem like a year.

_Distraction_, she reminded herself, and then she realized she was behind in the notes, so she scribbled down what was on the chalkboard and listened to what the Scholar said. Before she knew it, class was dismissed, and she was the first one out the door.

She raced down the halls, running when there were no Scholars in sight, and slowly to a very fast pace when they suddenly appeared from no where. They had a trick of doing that – even the Scholars in Jordan College.

And when she thought that, her heart fluttered again, because Jordan College was where she was going tomorrow.

When she reached the introductory hall of the school, she could not retain from sprinting, even though there were Scholars, and she was expected to behave… well, a little more maturely. She sprinted out the doors, down the stairs, and when she reached the bottom, she stopped.

It appeared as though Dame Hannah had not yet arrived, but ever hopeful, Lyra stood on her tiptoes and squinted down the road. She could faintly see a black speck in the distance. _That must be her! _

The black speck slowly grew larger, and as it did, the crowd around her did as well. Students milled about, gathering in cliques to chat. They weren't expecting any arrivals, but the stair case was often a place of gathering right after school, because sometimes important people did arrive, and it was wonderful to see them pull up in magnificent carriages, or for the really influential people, the automobiles of elegant black design.

This would be the case today, and as the black speck became distinguishable as a car, a few groups turned to peer, like Lyra, into the distance, and speculate who would be turning up at the end of the school year.

Lyra was correct – it was Dame Hannah – and somehow she knew this, instead of just hoping, before the car had come to a completely stop. Lyra held her breath as the door opened, and Dame Hannah stepped out. Lyra did not waste a second; she rushed over to the Scholar and hugged her. Dam Hannah smiled and kissed her on the forehead, straightened and started up the stairs, her armed gently guiding Lyra forward.

"How was your last week of the semester?" she asked, making conversation, although she was really interested. While not exactly book smart, Lyra was very bright, especially regarding her age.

The young girl made a face. "It couldn't have gone slower," she said. "'specially since I've been waiting for this weekend since… well, since a year ago." She sighed and looked down at the steps, until the reached the top. Dame Hannah watched her with the young girl with a grim sadness, but remained silent.

Lyra cleared her throat when they reached the door, for a lump was growing in it and she wanted to say something.

"Dame Hannah," she started, hesitantly. The elder nodded encouragingly. "…do… do you know … if time passes the same in our world and in – in other worlds?"

The head of St. Sophia's women college had no definite idea, but she knew what Lyra wanted to hear, and she couldn't think of a reason why that would be wrong, so she said, in her most reassuring tone, "I believe they do, Lyra. That is to say, I've no idea why they wouldn't." She smiled, and Lyra responded by lifting up the corner of her mouth, but her heart was not completely convinced.

At the end of the introductory hall, which was marked by a large staircase, Dame Hannah and Lyra had to part ways – the Dame was not just visiting to see Lyra, for she had meetings to attend and various jobs to perform. The girl had her own activities to do as well: packing, saying goodbye to her friends, and a few chores. The boarding school knew it was important to keep their students humble, so they assigned various responsibilities to each girl every week or so. Lyra's job, this week, was to look after the horses in the stable and make sure they were well groomed, well fed, and in good health. If they weren't, she had helpers to take care of those things with her – she shared the job with Maeling, a girl from Asia, and Emily, from Surrey.

"I'll see you for dinner, then," the Dame said, and Lyra nodded politely, and they each went off to their duties.

The dormitories weren't as crowded as the gathering outside the introductory hall, but they were smaller, and enclosed, so at times it seemed as though there were more girls there. Lyra entered quietly, and went to her room, slipping past the throngs of excited girls, many of whom were procrastinating in packing, because they wanted to stay with their friends.

Lyra's room was empty, as usual for this time of day. Four beds lined the walls – one per wall – and each were neatly made, the sheets starchly clean. She dragged her suitcase from under her bed and diligently began packing. The girls had dressers to put all their belongings, so packing was very easy for the neat, organized girl. Lyra's clothes were already folded, so all she had to do was move them into her suitcase. Her books and various items – like her alethiometer, which she kept hidden from the other girls – were in a little bit of disarray, but she was eager to be packed, so it didn't take her long to sort out the mess. She left out clothes for tomorrow, and set them on top of her dresser. Her alethiometer was hidden deep in her suitcase, under the clothes, tucked away in its perfect velvet case.

"Why so eager to go, Lyra?"

The girl jumped and whirled around, to find a tall, gangly girl standing before her. Inquisitive, green eyes stared imploringly at her, and dark, black hair was braided neatly, the tip ending just above her lower back. Her arms were clasped innocently behind her, and in the blue sweater and black skirt, with a golden locket dangling around her neck, she looked as perfect as a young, disciplined woman should.

But there was a tiny glint of mischief in her eyes, and that had been the first thing Lyra noticed about her.

"Hello, Kay," Lyra greeted, closing her suitcase.

Kay watched her expectantly.

"I'm going back to Jordan College, tomorrow," Lyra explained, as if this were a sufficient excuse for her haste to leave. Lyra sometimes took for granted the fact that these girls had not grown up in Jordan, and couldn't possibly understand its grandeur that Lyra so appreciated. Nor could they ever realize the significance of what else was in Oxford: the Botanical Garden. The special place.

Kay merely arched an eyebrow.

She was one of Lyra's closest friends, but that didn't hold much meaning. Lyra was a little disappointed that she had few close friends, but her studies had been important, and it was too soon after her adventure to be able to settle down again. However, towards the end of the year, she had come to know this girl, Kay, and one of her other dorm mates.

Lyra sighed. "I grew up there," she said, though this she had told Kay before, "and… it's just a sentimental place."

Kay sat down on her bed. She would not stop staring at Lyra! Indignant, Lyra frowned, but really, she didn't mind as much as she would have liked to appear. _You have to get to know people, and just because you're leaving now, you'll be back next year, _she reminded her self.

"Lyra," Kay finally said, "Em's and I have a hypothesis, and I was designated as the brave questioner."

Lyra snorted; Kay had a flare for the dramatics.

"We think you might've… well, please don't get mad or anything, you don't have to answer…" Kay hesitated, but before Lyra could say anything, she plowed on. "Well, to get to the point, we were wondering… do you have… is there someone … special – at Jordan? I mean – like a boy?"

Lyra wasn't expecting that question at all, and her eyebrows shot up. It was actually customary for the girls of the boarding school to become curious of the mysterious boy subject – because it was an all girls school. But Lyra had always guarded that aspect of her Lyra very carefully, and she never suspected the girls would pick up on it.

"Not in the way you're thinking," she mumbled out, and she turned to move her suitcase to the floor and shove it under her bed. She stayed with her back to Kay, because she could feel her cheeks redden, and the hiccup of longing rising in her throat.

She heard Kay's footsteps on the wooden floor, and suddenly Kay was behind her.

"You can talk about it, if you want." The offer was not demanding: just a gentle reassure of confidence.

Lyra shook her head. "I'm not ready." Her voice was fragile: a quiet whisper, yet full of pain and intensity that Kay understood. She did not question further.

"Here's my address," Kay said, "write to me." Kay then left the dorm, leaving Lyra to the overwhelming emotions that the weekend would inevitably bring.


	2. Oxford

Author's Note/**Disclaimer**: I profess to have **absolutely no **affiliation with the esteemed Philip Pullman, nor Ballantine Publishing Group, or any other official group related to the publication and creation of this magnificent trilogy. I just want a different ending!

Their Republic

Chapter Two: Oxford

_'Being cheerful starts now_,_' Will thought as hard as he could, but it was like trying to hold a fighting wolf still in his arms when it wanted to claw at his face and tear out his throat; nevertheless, he did it, and he thought no one could see the effort it cost him._

_And he knew that Lyra was doing the same, and that the tightness and strain in her smile were the signs of it._

_Nevertheless, she smiled._

_One last kiss, rushed and clumsy so that they banged cheekbones, and a tear from her eye was transferred to his face; their two dæmons kissed farewell; and then Will began to close the window, and then it was done, the way was closed, Lyra was gone."_

Will rolled over in his sleep, his face tight and pained, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes and soaking his pillow.

"_I've got to break the knife."_

He turned over again, finding little comfort in the deep mattress and thick blankets.

_So he tried it now, an image of his mother's face as he'd last seen her, fearful and distracted in Mrs. Cooper's little hallway._

A small sob escaped his throat. In the next room, Mary Malone woke.

_But it didn't work. The knife cut easily through the air and opened into a world where they were having a rainstorm: heavy drops hurtled through, startling them both._

Beads of sweat mingled with the tears on his pillow. Mary's light switched on and her door creaked open.

_He … stood puzzled for a moment._

_His dæmon knew what he should do, and said simply, "Lyra."_

_Of course. He nodded, and with the knife in his right hand, he pressed with his left the spot where her tear still lay on his cheek._

_And this time, with a wrenching crack, the knife shattered and the blade fell in pieces on the ground._

Will sat up in bed as Mary flicked on the light in his room. He bit his lip to keep from crying aloud. Rubbing his eyes, he looked at the clock. Five am.

Mary remained silent, watching him, and after a moment she disappeared. Will heard her put the kettle on downstairs, and he left his bed and damp pillow to join Mary in the kitchen.

She looked up as he entered and sat at the table.

When they'd returned to their Oxford, Will and Mary had visited her flat and discussed the course of action they should take. They'd gone to Mrs. Cooper's house, where Will's mother was waiting for him. Luckily, somehow, she'd been perfectly fine for Mrs. Cooper. When she saw Will, her eyes welled with tears, and he realized that this was one of the rare moments when her eyes saw clearly – intelligently.

She knelt to hug him and whispered in his ear, "I feared you'd never come back."

His heart had thumped painfully, and he hugged her tighter. "I've a lot to tell you, Mum."

She finally noticed Mary standing politely to the side, and she let go of Will and stood.

"This is Mary Malone," Will said, and Mary offered her hand out to Will's mother. "Mary, this is my mum."

Mary smiled, and his mother hesitantly took Mary's hand and shook it.

Will jumped when the tea kettle rang, jarring him from his memories.

Mary did not have to ask if he wanted a cup; she just set it in front of him and sat down across from him.

"One year today," Will said shakily.

Mary nodded grimly.

"I wonder … if time passes the same in her world." He swallowed a sip of tea. "Has it been a year for her, too?"

Dr. Malone set down her cup. "I think it has."

Will wasn't sure enough to believe her, though.

They arrived at Oxford half an hour before noon. He knew how to get to the Botanical Garden on his own, so Mary let him be and went to the museum instead.

The bench was exactly as he'd left it, as if preserved specially for this occasion. Kirjava, his cat dæmon, usually liked to keep to herself, but after a few moments she joined him on the bench, carefully curling on his lap.

Still, the bench felt lonely, and his heart ached more than it had all year. He brushed hot tears away, amazed how he could still cry over this, and yet, unsurprised at all that he would miss her this much. Kirjava's tail twitched slightly as she felt Will's worry.

"Your father," Kirjava said. Will stared blankly down at her. "He stayed in Lyra's world for about ten years. He looked like he'd aged about ten years." She laid her head down on his knee and closed her eyes. "Time passes the same in both worlds."

Will nodded, realizing she was right.

And finally, the half hour passed, and somewhere Will heard a clock chime noon. He couldn't be sure if it was his imagination, but suddenly he heard running footsteps and a high voice calling.

He felt wind on his face, as if someone was rushing by him, but suddenly the rush was gone. Yet it had left him with a warm, tingling sensation, and a small part of his heart was soothed.

A few seconds later, though, a little girl ran passed him, calling and giggling over her shoulder, "You'll never catch me!" A boy – maybe a friend, or brother – followed shortly after.

Kirjava looked up at Will. "They're there, Will. I'm sure they are."

And naturally they were. Lyra sat down, breathless, on the bench just as the clock chimed twelve. Pan leaped onto her lap and she stroked his soft fur. She couldn't believe she'd almost missed it – the first time, too.

Something had come up last minute at the college, and then the chauffeur was late to pick up Lyra.

_But we still made it_, Pan told Lyra. She nodded, sighed, and sat back on the bench.

Two children ran past the bench, giggling like mad. She remembered when she and her friend Roger had played together, before everything had happened. He was dead, now, but his spirit had dissolved, and now what once made him up was flying happily through space and time.

"Because of me and Will," Lyra murmured, unaware she spoke her thoughts. "No, because of Will." She looked down at Pantalaimon. "_He _was the one who cut the opening. He freed the dead."

Only one opening was allowed for, though, because the openings allowed Dust to leak out. That was why she could not truly be with Will today, or any other day, or for the rest of her life. And she could not stay in Will's world, because a dæmon could only live in the world it was born in.

Will had had a knife that could create openings between worlds, and he could have made an opening quickly, every couple of years, and they could have gone back and forth between each world so that they could stay with each other.

And then Lyra realized something that would have saved them a year ago, and they'd never have to have stayed apart – they could have been together.

Pantalaimon turned towards her as he heard her thoughts.

"Pan – what if… what if he _had _made an opening every couple of years or so?"

"We knew then that it would still create a specter," Pan replied. Doubt laced his hesitant voice.

"No," Lyra insisted, whispering urgently, "I mean – yes, we _thought _that, and we were right, but the angel – Xaphania – she … said she'd take care of the specters…"

Lyra let out a loud sob as she realized their separation could have been prevented.

Someone nearby heard her and began towards her.

Pan remained calm, though, not having seen the person approaching, nor accepting what Lyra was saying.

"Would it have been fair, Lyra? To ask them to kill a specter every couple of years, just so we could see Will and Kirjava?"

Lyra did not reply. Instead, she closed her eyes and relaxed on the bench. Finally, she felt a small, warm tingling that at least calmed some part of her soul.

"Excuse me?"

Her eyes flashed open. Who was disturbing her peace?

Before her stood a young boy, probably around her age, whose dark eyes were staring imploringly into hers.

"Are you all right?" he asked tentatively. Lyra nodded slowly, gulping. "I thought I heard you cry out just now. Was that you?"

Lyra stared back, her chin held high. This was _their _day, _their _time, and this boy was interrupting!

"I tripped just a second ago and landed on my foot funny," she said. "But I'm fine."

The boy didn't seem to quite accept this answer, but he didn't pursue the subject. Instead, to Lyra's dismay, he sat down beside her. Pan shot annoyed glances to the boy's dæmon, who was unfortunately looking away.

"My name's Alexander Farr," the boy said, "but you can call me Alex."

Lyra stared blankly at him, and he stared back, expectant. "You can call me Lizzie," Lyra said, just because she was annoyed and feeling a little like her old self. "Lizzie Brooks."

"So…" he said, after they'd been silent for awhile. "What brings you here?"

Lyra stiffened imperceptibly and glanced at Pan for an idea. She needed to sound dull. That had been Lizzie's original personality anyway.

"Oh… no reason… just wandering around."

"Ah. It is nice here, isn't it?"

Lyra merely stared in silence.

"I actually came here because I like the tranquility," he chattered on, "and it's a good place for inspiration." He glanced around, pausing for a second, then lifted the bag he'd been carrying – Lyra hadn't noticed, because she'd been distracted – and he pulled out a portfolio. "I … like to draw."

She had no idea why he was confiding in her, but she didn't want him to. She let her eyes glaze over and looked away while he droned on about his work.

Yet she couldn't help but feel guilty, and so eventually she focused in on what he was saying.

"…because the lighting in that section is just perfect, the way it comes through the trees. That's actually where I was when I heard you – "

"Listen," Lyra interrupted, "I hate to be rude, but…" Her fingers traced the grain on the wood. "…I don't understand why you're telling me all this."

"Oh." He faltered. "My friends tell me I chatter too much." Lyra could agree wholeheartedly with them. "I guess I do. You just looked like you needed cheering up."

If Lyra hadn't felt completely guilty before, she suddenly did now.

"I'm sorry, Alex," she said, "my name's not really Lizzie Brooks."

"Ah," he replied. "You know, I didn't think you looked like a Lizzie."

Awkward silence gripped the moment. Finally –

"My name is Lyra Silvertongue," she said, "but technically, it used to be Lyra Belacqua. I guess that's what it is legally."

"Well, pleased to meet you, Lyra Silvertongue." He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "There's something down there I want to draw," he said suddenly, and stood.

Lyra thanked him silently.

He walked a good ways down, sat cross-legged in the grass, and took out his sketchbook.

Lyra closed her eyes and sat back, breathing a sigh of relief. Then she lost herself in dreams.

Random Babblings:

I'd like to thank all the people who reviewed! Reviews make me happy. I'm glad you liked the first one. I only have a vague idea of where I'm going with this, but… ideas are breeding in my mind every moment, so something exciting will definitely happen. Especially in the next chapter… (I promise. Some action/adventure approaches us at top speed!)

I've also read _Paradise Lost _(for English class), and since HDM was largely…. I guess, "inspired" by it (the title came from it, for instance), it's given me some ideas.


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